Opium for the Masses — Mental Retardation

I sent mass text that rendered the perfect white picket fence garden, smeared with the obscene calamity that struck the peaceful citizen into the “soul of soulless conditions, the heart of a heartless world”. Not twice or thrice. But only ONCE.

That is enough to get a citizen of outsource capitalization that is frequently flooded with global call to get irked with one simple text that only inquire about a shipment of goods from Borneo. I apologise for not abiding to the rule of internet sophistication of Twitter and Facebook at that moment, since I’m in the middle of 3G and Internet void. Hence the sms, as the shipment just arrived from Miri and intended recipient is required — the goods is perishable and still fresh.

I don’t have to be creative with an elaborate prose just to inquire 3 people. Yes, only 3 masses of person.

Massive masses of human mass.

You wanted me to make a different tearful and eye jerking story about the passing of something dear to me for each of intended close circle of loved ones too? I send it to the citizen of the animal lover with ever intricate narrative; and the reply is understandable since the trip to the mountainous theme park surely take out breathe of the visitor there. I don’t trespass further, and the succinct reply is enough.

If I didn’t blog it, does that mean I didn’t value it the same with someone else quote that comes from a different mode of communication? Do I have to divulge everything just to make a simple point that death is something poignant?

Why overlook a simple structure of word — death — yet looking further to the voice that uttered the word; unsteady vibration, foul stench from the parched throat, indistinct accent and the facial tic that’s irksome. The messenger is being judged, for he didn’t come decent and charmingly enough to utter the distressing word — death. How should I say it: Longer and poetic version with singular recipient, as if the world of my despair revolved around one person alone?

Somehow, I, remaining in perpetual confusion amuse some of you. Like a decrepit dog tailing its tail.

Does death also amuses some of you? And do I have to blog every frustration with every answer that comes from each of you just to be fair — as whom I value the most?

Should I also divulged how many promises that’s broken, how many debt left unpaid, how many disappointment that I stomach with nihilistic contempt! Because being ignorance is bliss?

I’m glad [he] got the gut to make it happened, because that would be definitive enough for me, how it should ended in term of being in perpetual complication.

If blogging my frustration is the valid form of real life frustration. So there. I’m frustrated with all the argument about stupid judgement of one simple multiple or effing mass sms, plural recipient for tragic story instead of singular recipient and the grading system like in kindergarten on how much valuable the feedback is.

This is such an infantile argument.

Would it be professional if I ask how much debt that you should pay? Or just because I work in Oil & Gas, I should ignore all the debt incurred? Oh, that’s only rhetorical question, since it required spending monetary value equivalent on how many gas, mileage and time that already spent the last 4 years.

It’s easier to make the argument worse by divulging financial losses. That’s when alimony issues arise.

Nevermind. Do whatever you want to do.

If I did, is it going to get worst?

Only if I blog this that is.

And I did.

+++

Blogging is not a valid form of mutual conversation. Try the traditional verbal dialogue next time, winning the argument is easier amidst the tantrum. Then again, that’s why I blog, to stay clear from the “paroxysm of indifference importance”.